


love leaves a mark and love leaves a strain

by averita



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averita/pseuds/averita
Summary: The anger behind the anger.Post season two. Cat and Kara take one step forward and two steps back.





	love leaves a mark and love leaves a strain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thewhitestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewhitestars/gifts).



> For the Supergirl Secret Santa exchange prompt: "We knew it wouldn't be easy." Title from "Crying Over" by Patty Griffin. Set post s2 but ignores s3 canon.

Kara’s barely stepped through the elevator when Eve grabs her arm, steering her with surprising force down the hall into Kara’s office. 

“You have to do something,” she says without preamble. “It’s been bad all week, but she’s fired three people this morning and I swear I thought she was going to throw her latte at me when I told her Stuart was here for their meeting. She _knew_ it had been rescheduled, I reminded her twice, but -”

“Slow down,” Kara interrupts, shrugging her sweater off and dropping her bag beside her desk. Eve looks near tears, and as Kara runs through a quick triage assessment, making sure that Eve isn’t the next one on the chopping block takes top priority. “Breathe, and don’t cry.” Eve nods quickly, sniffling even as she squares her shoulders and exhales. “Where is she now?”

“With Stuart,” Eve grimaces. “I’m pretty sure we’re about to lose the Patagonia ad deal.” 

Since Cat’s return almost three months ago, Kara's been surprised and (she’s ashamed to admit) a little disappointed at how well Eve has settled into her old job. She’d barely had a chance to work for Cat before James took over, and Kara had sort of expected Eve to burn out as quickly as most of her own predecessors had apparently done. She’s competent, though, and unlike Kara she’d had a year to learn the nuances of the job and endear herself to most of the necessary people. Cat seems to enjoy complaining about her and Kara still hears “TESCHMACHER!!!” shouted across the office several times a day, but for Eve to be this frazzled before 10 AM tells Kara that there’s probably something to her panic.

Plus, now that she thinks about it, Cat _had_ seemed off the last time they’d spent more than a few minutes together. That had been on Tuesday. _Three days ago_ , Kara realizes, which is in itself unusual. Most days they have at least a little time together, whether it’s a quick lunch on Cat’s balcony or a quiet evening in one of their offices when busy days keep them late. She digs her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her messages and frowning as she notes that her post-burglary text to Cat last night remains unanswered. 

Eve shifts anxiously from one foot to the other. “I don’t know - is this normal?” she asks tentatively. “What did you do when she was like this?”

“It sounds like it’s just a bad week,” Kara reassures her, putting her phone on her desk. “Just do your job, and if anything unexpected comes up do your best to fix it without bringing her into it. I’ll talk to her.” 

Eve nods, clearly relieved. “Thanks,” she says. “I know she can be difficult but I’m worried something’s wrong. She can be mean but, I don’t know, this isn’t her _normal_ mean. If you know what I mean.” She pauses and bites her lip. “Will you tell me if there’s anything I should know? Or if there’s anything I can do?”

Kara softens. She might be a little jealous of Eve, who gets to spend her whole day with Cat and apparently thrives in Kara's old job, but she’s a nice girl and the fact that she seems to care about Cat beyond her job description goes a long way towards endearing her to Kara. She puts an hand on Eve’s shoulder. “Of course,” she tells her. “Thanks for coming to me.” 

Not five minutes after arriving at CatCo Kara heads back downstairs, straight to Noonan’s, where she selects one of the fancy bags of dark chocolate almonds they keep by the coffee bar before placing her order. A proper, laser-heated latte is always a good first step. After that? Well, she and Cat are in an odd, tentative place right now, and her old assistant tricks don’t seem appropriate. 

She’ll wing it. Making Cat happy isn’t part of her _actual_ job anymore, but whatever they are to each other - whatever they end up being - she’s pretty sure it’s still her role to play. 

***

Cat’s on the phone when she returns, which makes Kara wince - that meeting with Stuart didn’t last long - but she swivels to look at Kara as she makes her way to her desk, candy and coffee held out like offerings. Cat purses her lips, ignoring the chocolates but reaching greedily for the latte. “You could have given a four year old a Kodak and gotten the same results,” she snaps into the phone before taking a sip and closing her eyes. Kara would like to think it’s from bliss but her face is tight and her shoulders tighter, and when she opens them again she gives Kara a look like she’s wondering what the hell she’s still doing there. _Okay, then_ , Kara thinks, offering a bright smile before turning to leave.

 _I’m probably going to have to stay late tonight_ , she texts early in the afternoon. It’s true - the new Hibachi restaurant Lena had been so excited about had apparently cut a few corners in construction, and between the resulting fire and an ambulance stuck in traffic, her edits are piling up quickly. _I can order takeout if you’ll be here too?_

 _Not tonight, I have a conference call with Manila_ is all she gets in return, about five minutes before Eve texts _SHE JUST DEMOTED JAMES CAN SHE EVEN DO THAT????_

Kara takes her glasses off to peer through her office walls (and Rao, the fact that she can actually _use_ this office is one of the many blessings of Cat being back - she’s still not sure what Cat said to Snapper, but the last time he’d caught her scribbling at her makeshift cubicle he’d jerked his head and said “Find somewhere else to do that before someone trips over you.”) Snapper is gone, out on assignment somewhere, and the rest of the reporters wouldn’t care where she was even if they noticed. 

The sky outside the main bullpen has settled into the hazy gray of early evening as people begin to wind down for the day. She pokes her head into James’ office, just to reassure herself that his job isn’t really in trouble - “I don’t think so,” he tells her, “but if she keeps going like this I might start sending my resume out,” and it sounds like he’s only half-joking. Eve looks wrecked and on the verge of tears; Kara shoots her a sympathetic smile as she walks past her into Cat’s office.

Cat hadn’t looked great this morning - not in any obvious way, but to Kara’s well-trained and superpowered eye, it was evident. Six hours later, though, she looks - well - if Cat Grant could ever look _bad_ , this is probably what it would look like. Slight circles shine through the smudged makeup under her bloodshot eyes; her hair looks like she’s run her fingers through it several times and only barely bothered to rearrange it. Kara adjusts her glasses, taking in the mountain of coffee cups in the trash can by her desk, the half-empty tumbler on the desk, and the rapid, jittery heartbeat that sets Kara on edge. 

“Don’t do that,” Cat grits out, dropping her head forward so that her fingers press into her temples. “The only superpowers you’re allowed to use in this office are on my latte.” 

Kara grimaces. "Sorry, she says. "I just wanted to check on you. I haven't seen much of you these past couple of days.” It's not quite a question, but it hangs in the air like one.

Cat snorts indelicately. “You’re saying that you weren’t sent here by Teschmacher and Olsen and whatever other delicate sensibilities I’ve offended today? Please. I don’t like to be _handled_ , Kara.”

“I’m not _handling_ you,” Kara shoots back, annoyance rising in her unbidden. “I mean it. Eve mentioned you've been a little off -” she sends a mental apology to Eve for bringing her name into it - “and I realized that I hadn’t really seen you, or heard from you, almost all week. And that’s not - we usually see each other,” she finishes lamely. 

Cat leans back in her chair, tired eyes flashing with frustration. “I’m running a multi-billion dollar media corporation, Kara, I’m sorry if that means that sometimes I can’t have dinner with you. What did you think you were signing up for?”

Kara steps forward, spreading her palms over the top of Cat’s desk and relishing a little in Cat’s sharp inhale. “I thought we were figuring that out. _Together_ ,” she stresses, the same word Cat had emphasized when they’d agreed that there was, in fact, something to figure out. 

She’d seemed so open that night - open to Kara, open to possibilities and to a future that Kara had only imagined in the most secret parts of her mind. It might as well be a different person in front of her now, cold and indifferent, shrugging delicately in the face of Kara’s obvious confusion and hurt. “Cat,” she tries again, hating how desperate she sounds. “I’m just trying to help. You seem -”

“What?” Cat snaps, dropping the pen she'd been fiddling with and turning to look fully at Kara. “I seem what? For God’s sake, Kara, you’re not my assistant anymore, so unless I start assigning alt-right profile pieces or suggest Lois Lane for the Woman of the Year shortlist, how I seem at work is none of your concern. If you’re so desperate to help somebody, I’m sure there’s a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere. Or -” her eyes turn flinty - “perhaps you could start by actually doing the work you’re _supposed_ to be doing here instead of disappearing during editorial meetings. Your boss is starting to notice, and you’re not needed here.”

Those last words land like a punch. Kara sucks in a breath, hurt swelling hot and deep in her stomach. “Wow,” she says faintly, clutching the desk in front of her only to feel it begin to give beneath her grip. She pulls away, twisting her hands together, digging her nails in just enough that she can feel the burn in her palm, and straightens. “Okay. I don’t know why you’re being like this -”

Cat tilts her head. “Being like what?” she asks loftily, using the same light airy voice that Kara knows from meetings and parties and people who want things from her that she’ll never give. “Kara, honestly -” she looks down at the papers spread out across her desk and picks her pen back up, slashing a harsh line across the first paragraph she lays eyes on - “you need to not take things so personally.” She glances up, just for a second, to meet Kara’s stricken gaze once more. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Kara snorts at that, hurt and confusion giving way to something bitter and angry. She remembers standing in this exact spot barely two years ago, faced with a cruel and dismissive Cat and suddenly unable to take it for a second longer - she’d yelled, letting the fury inside her boil over like a screeching kettle, and promptly stopped herself as though it had burned her. Somehow - she’s still not entirely sure - that had led to one of the first tentative steps towards them becoming closer, something more than just boss and assistant.

 _The anger behind the anger_ , she remembers, and lets her own drain out of her.

Cat stares stubbornly at her spreadsheets but the muscles of her jaw are tight, her heart beating rapidly, and Kara’s pretty sure that she’s not seeing anything in front of her. “Okay,” she says again. “You’re right, I’m not your assistant - I don’t know what I am to you, because you’re giving pretty mixed signals right now.” Cat looks up sharply, clearly ready to retort, but Kara doesn’t give her a chance. “Whatever it is, though, you don’t get to treat me like this. So I’m gonna go. When you remember how to act like a decent person, you can come find me.”

She doesn’t let herself look back as she flees Cat’s office - a combination of wanting to land the exit (because _wow_ \- as upset and worried as Kara is right now, she can’t deny that was something of a rush) and not wanting to see the look on Cat’s face. 

***

Kara stays late, almost two hours past when she’d normally have left. She tells herself it’s to catch up on the work she’d missed while dealing with the Hibachi fire this morning but she’s terrible at lying even to herself, and gets next to nothing done anyway. 

When she eventually she hears the familiar sounds of Cat preparing to leave - shrugging into her coat, a muffled curse as she looks for her shoes, the mellow log-off tone of her computer and finally, the ping of her elevator - Kara blinks rapidly, not willing to let herself cry at work even with no one here to see. So much has changed, and so quickly, but some habits are ingrained. 

They’re still figuring this out, she and Cat, and Kara thought - she _thought_ they were making progress. Working together again, working _towards_ something that feels big and terrifying and right in a way that both thrills and saddens her. Cat had been surprisingly quiet about the boyfriend Kara had suddenly gained and just as suddenly lost, but what little she'd said - and, more tellingly, all the things she hadn’t - had made Kara wonder if Mon-El had just been a lesson to learn, a mistake that only got out of hand because the person she’d relied on for honest judgment had up and left. 

There had been one night, not long after the Daxamites had left, that Kara had gotten drunk. Alex was out with Maggie - they'd invited Kara, of course, they almost always did and it was almost always fine. Sometimes, though, Kara just couldn't stomach being the third wheel to a happy, healthy couple, and that night she'd made her way through half the bottle of Jarcadian Whiskey M'gann had given her months ago. 

With nothing to stop her but her own increasingly questionable judgment, she’d called Cat. It had been nearly one in the morning but Cat answered, hoarse and irritated, a strain of worry in her voice that warmed Kara as much as the alcohol.

“Are you staying?” Kara asked, slurring just a little. “Or are you gonna leave again?”

Cat paused for so long that Kara pulled the phone from her ear, frowning, to make sure the call was still active. “Cat?” (She still reveled in saying it - it was new, and she slipped up fairly often, but Cat would just raise an eyebrow whenever Kara called her “Ms. Grant” until she backtracked.) 

“Go to sleep, Kara,” Cat finally said. She didn't sound angry, just odd; tired, even a little hesitant. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

Kara spent most of the next day in her office working through a hangover she'd thought herself immune to and questioning many of her life choices; it wasn’t until Cat texted her at four that she remembered their brief conversation. She’d gone to Cat’s office with a knot in her stomach that only tightened and squirmed when Cat directed her out to the balcony and closed the door.

They’d stayed out there late into the night, a night of long overdue conversations and confrontations that still, weeks later, sends a thrill up Kara’s spine when she thinks about it. Since her return to National City, Cat had seemed - not different, exactly, she was still snappish and demanding and sharp as ever - but calmer, more centered. _We have the guts to be vulnerable_ , she’d said, but it was a different thing to see her deliberately opening up rather than lashing out or caught up in a moment that she’d later pretend hadn’t happened. 

Mon-El told Kara once that she looked beautiful with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’d forgotten that (or perhaps just buried it away with all of the other warning signs), but it came back to her that night in a sudden, aching rush, because Cat - Cat had never been so lovely as she was with the world at her feet, hers for the taking, and looking at Kara like she was the only thing in it. 

For the first time in months, Kara felt steady - calm, and strong. When she dove this time, Cat was right there with her. 

She'd spent the next few days on tenterhooks, holding her breath and waiting for Cat to retreat. She’d almost expected another sabbatical but as the week unspooled, very little actually changed. The little things that did, though, quickly became things she’s only now realizing she can’t stand to be without. 

Cat’s knuckles brushing her arm and fingers trailing across her back, and the tickle of hair where she rests her head on Kara’s shoulder. The slight slump and tired sigh at the end of a long day, new tones of a voice Kara thought she knew every inflection of. Frequent texts that mean everything in their meaninglessness - scathing commentary during overlong meetings, pictures of Carter’s latest baking attempt, even a gif in response to Kara’s emoji-filled reaction to the Wynonna Earp finale. (It had been an eye roll gif, to be fair, but the next day she’d listened to Kara gush about it for most of their lunch with undisguised fondness.) 

That’s another thing that’s changed. For as long as they’ve known each other, so much of their communication has been unspoken, or hidden behind walls of carefully chosen words: _There is absolutely nothing special about me. I can see the hero within you. Strictly professional. The end of Working Girl always makes me cry._

Being unfiltered around Cat is still a work in progress, but it’s _nice_ , and what she gets in return is more than she could have dreamed. For years Kara’s hoarded the crumbs of personal information Cat dropped, but now she suddenly has a feast in front of her and it’s overwhelming, all the pieces and details of what make up the woman she -

The woman she is _pissed as hell_ at, she reminds herself sternly. The woman who’s acting now like Kara had half-expected her to a month ago, but _worse_ because she’d gone and let Kara get used to this honest, open version of her that she'd long known existed but only rarely seen. “This isn’t going to be easy,” she’d said that first night, her hand tight around Kara’s and mouth quirked up in a tight little smile. “I think we should - we’ll go slow, figure out what this could look like. If you want.” She’d looked so vulnerable, caution and hope battling across her face before giving way to something soft and surprised as Kara leaned in…

Now Kara presses a hand to her mouth, finally giving in to the frustrated tears that have threatened for hours. 

***

She’s half-asleep on the couch, thinking vaguely that she really should freeze-breath the mostly-empty ice cream carton on the coffee table before she drifts off, when her phone chirps.

_Are you awake?_

Kara stares at the text for a long moment, not sure how to reply or even if she should. Part of her wouldn’t mind letting Cat feel guilty for a night, and leaving _her_ wondering where _she_ stands. Even as she considers it, though, another text comes through. _If you are, come over._

 _Please_ , Cat sends a second later, clearly an afterthought, and Kara really can’t kid herself that this was going to end with anything but her outside Cat’s house. 

As Cat’s assistant she’d only ever visited the city penthouse, which was used for work events and when Carter was away; the first time she’d come to Cat’s _home_ had been for dinner a couple of months ago, after the Daxamite invasion but before she drunk-dialed Cat and all that came from it. The casual invitation - “Carter’s going through a cooking phase, he’d appreciate your indiscriminate palate” - had sent Kara into a frenzied excitement-bordering-on-panic that both amused and placated her hovering sister. 

She’d been surprised to find a comfortable-looking house - well, mansion - nestled at the end of a long uphill drive. She’s been back three times since but only ever through the front door, and never upstairs. Carter’s in DC on a school trip, though, and a quick scan reveals that Cat is waiting on the balcony outside what must be her bedroom. 

Kara doesn’t bother changing, just lands silently next to her, facing the house and leaning back against the railing with crossed arms.

Cat doesn’t say anything at first. She takes a sip of what looks like tea and grimaces, setting it down on a low table next to one of the lounge chairs and straightening to cross her own arms over the balcony. 

She looks drained. Her face is scrubbed free of make up and her hair hangs limply around her shoulders, rustling in the slight breeze. An expensive looking bathrobe has been haphazardly tied so that it hangs halfway open, revealing soft purple pajama pants and a tank top that Kara can’t help but appreciate despite the heaviness of the moment. With no shoes, no jewelry, no _armor_ , and with the city sprawled out beneath her, she looks as small as Kara's ever seen her.

Kara waits. The moment stretches out in a way that has her on edge and if she hadn’t been in her super suit, she might have caved and filled it with babble. The suit gives her confidence, though, and patience, and an edge that curbs the urge to make this easier on Cat. 

Finally Cat speaks.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she confesses quietly. “It’s no excuse, but I’ve been - after the plane -” she breaks off, swallowing hard. Kara's gaze doesn't waver and Cat seems to steel herself. 

“I have nightmares,” she says. “About falling.” 

It takes Kara a second. 

Her body seems to understand before her brain - she jerks to face Cat as she processes the weight of those words, the way she carefully looks at the valley below and avoids Kara’s eyes, the tension in her frame -

“Oh my god,” Kara says, stumbling back from the railing unsteadily. 

“Don’t.” Cat sounds tired. “Please, don’t.”

“Cat, I didn’t - I’m so -” her tongue sticks in her mouth. She swallows around it, nausea roiling in her stomach and burning her throat. “Oh my god.”

Cat turns to look at her, raising a shaky hand to her forehead. “This is why I didn’t - Kara, I owe _you_ the apology this time.”

Kara barely hears her over the odd ringing in her ears. “I should go,” she stammers, looking around wildly - why, _why_ would Cat decide to have this conversation on a _balcony_? - and has one foot in the air already when a small hand closes around her wrist, holding her in place as effectively as Kryptonite cuffs.

“Don’t,” Cat says again, a familiar commanding note in her voice that cuts through Kara’s agitation. Her fingers are cool and tight, and Kara wilts. 

She stumbles away from Cat, who lets go of her with a pinched expression but doesn’t look away as Kara leans against the glass bedroom door, as far from the railing as she can get without taking off or going inside. Cat doesn’t move. She just stands there, looking at Kara, bathrobe fluttering like a cape in the breeze and dark circles bruising the skin under her eyes in the harsh light of the lamps. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” she tells Kara firmly. “It wasn’t fair. Or true. Most of it, anyway.” She tilts her head a little, the long line of her neck reflecting in a way that any other time Kara would admire. “You need to be more careful with Snapper, but that’s -” Cat shakes her head, cutting herself off. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Kara feels smaller than Cat looks right now in her bare feet and crooked robe. “How long have you been having these dreams?” she asks numbly.

Cat sits on the edge of one of the lounge chairs and gestures for Kara to do the same. She hesitates until Cat’s expression turns sharp and then sits gingerly beside her, keeping several inches between them.

“It’s been awhile,” Cat admits. “I’ve never slept very well, and after - well - they went away after awhile.” Kara picks at her tights where they stretch tight across her knee, eyes burning. “And when I first came back things were so hectic, I barely had a chance to process any of it, and I didn’t realize - things have been _good_ ,” she insists, stumbling over her words in a way Kara isn’t used to. “I just didn’t think about it. But then this weekend I talked to Olivia. Mike, he was one of her aides - his wife just had a baby a few weeks ago." She gestures helplessly. "He was on the plane. It all just..." Her words trail off. She lets them hang in the air, a tight, anxious look on her face as she waits.

Kara stays silent, a fresh wave of guilt washing over her.

She doesn’t know how many people were on Air Force One when Rhea attacked. She’d realized on some level that she’d made a choice when she saved Cat over the _President_ , who would be dead with everyone else if she were human. She wasn’t, though, and that revelation - and all that came after - overshadowed the decision Kara made. Cat was safe, the President alive and apparently indestructible, and in the aftermath of the invasion Kara had been so caught up in her own selfish, human grief and guilt. But people had died, she realizes now as though for the first time, people Kara hadn’t been able to save, and Cat - 

Cat rests her palm on the back of Kara’s hand where it digs into the cushion beneath them. “I’m not telling you this so that you can beat yourself up all over again,” she says, leaning forward to try to catch Kara’s eye. “I’m telling you this because it’s hard for me, too.” She swallows and turns a little so that their knees touch through thin fabric. “This - we knew this wouldn’t be easy, didn’t we?”

Kara laughs wetly, no humor in it. “How can you even _want_ this?” she asks. “How can you be out here -” she gestures out over the balcony - “with me? I don’t want to be something you have to, I don’t know, something to prove to yourself.” She shakes her head. “I’m not worth that.”

“Of course you are,” Cat says firmly. “But Kara, for God’s sake, that’s not what this is. You’re not some - mountain to climb, or fear to conquer.” She moves her hand to squeeze Kara’s knee. “I went to the other side of the planet looking for the secret to happiness, and I told you, it’s not about what you do or where you are, it’s about who you’re with.” She reaches for Kara, turning her face so that she's looking right at her and taking a deep, fortifying breath. “Being with you? That makes me happy. That’s why you’re here.”

That cuts through Kara’s haze of self pity. She inhales sharply, turning the words over in her mind. 

Those first few weeks after Cat’s return, Kara had been on autopilot. Fighting her cousin, sending Mon-El into unknown space, Rhea’s death and Alex’s sudden engagement - she couldn’t deal with it, instead spending all her time in her suit or at the DEO. Her reporting had suffered and while Supergirl had never been busier, she barely registered the people she saved. 

Alex alternated between hovering and giving Kara space; it wasn’t fair, but Kara only wanted her there when she wasn’t. Her sister was the one person she’d never felt the need to put a front on for but she wasn’t ready to be happy for her, and even in her lowest moments, she’d never let Alex think she was anything but. Her friends tried, too, organizing game nights and lunch reservations that she’d either decline or escape from after twenty minutes with a feigned Supergirl emergency. 

Cat had been the one person she could stand to be around. Their relationship had already begun to shift before she left CatCo so it didn’t bother Kara when she treated her differently, pushed a little harder and gave a little more in return. She made Kara feel more like the person she’d been a year ago, before everyone had found new shores to swim to and she’d been left treading water, eventually grabbing the only life raft in sight and sinking with it. 

She made Kara feel calm and capable and _better_. She still does. And it’s not like Kara doesn’t know that Cat has feelings for her, but somehow it’s never occurred to her that she might do the same for Cat. 

She places a careful hand over Cat’s where it rests on her knee, running her thumb along the curve of her palm. Cat exhales, long and slow, as tension seems to drain from her.

“I should have said something about the dreams before now,” she murmurs. “But I knew it would hurt you. And I’m not -” she hesitates. “Well. It’s been a long time since I’ve woken up from a nightmare and wanted someone there with me.”

Kara shifts a little closer, still unsure and jittery with guilt, but unable to deny her. She wraps a tentative arm around Cat, who sighs and rests her head on Kara’s shoulder. A few strands of hair - straighter and messier than Kara’s used to - tickle her chin. She breathes in deeply, inhaling the scent of nighttime Cat - fresh moisturizer and lip balm, clean skin and just the slightest hint of leftover perfume. It’s so different from the usual mix of powders and sprays that make her up during the day, and the breath Kara lets out is a little shaky. 

“What can I do?” she asks at last. 

Cat’s quiet for a minute, tracing absent patterns on Kara’s arm. 

“Well,” she says. “You can forgive me for the way I’ve been acting. I’d like to say it won’t happen again but I shouldn’t make any promises.” 

Kara stiffens, looking down at Cat. “No, you don’t have anything to -”

“Of course I do,” Cat insists. “Kara, if this is going to work you need to tell me when I’m being unfair, like you did today. It doesn’t matter what my reasons are. And I _want_ this to work.” The last part isn’t quite whispered but it’s softer, more vulnerable.

It takes Kara a moment but she nods, just a little, careful not to disturb Cat’s head on her shoulder. “Okay,” she whispers. “It’s okay. Thank you.” Cat makes a small, relieved sound in the back of her throat. “But Cat, I need to - I’m _so_ sorry. No, let me say it,” she insists when Cat lifts her head and starts to speak. “We didn’t really talk about it and I know it wasn’t entirely my fault, but I -” tears prick at her eyes and she swallows hard. “I hurt you, and that’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

Cat kisses her then, just briefly, her hands warm on Kara’s face. Kara reaches up to hold her wrists, the steady pulse there soothing against her palms. 

“I know,” Cat says when she pulls back, just far enough to press her forehead to Kara’s. “Will you stay?” 

It’s the same question Kara drunkenly asked Cat not so long ago - _are you staying?_ And though Kara’s not entirely sure what Cat means in this moment - _Stay with me. Stay the night. Stay forever._ \- the answer to all of it is the same.


End file.
